


diary of a dabo boy

by letek



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Competent Quark, Gen, dabo boy quark, quark is sexy and he knows it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:33:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27395764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/letek/pseuds/letek
Summary: After he got blacklisted from the Ferengi business world and before he started working on a freighter, Quark worked for a few years as a dabo boy. So here's a day in the life of dabo boy Quark.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 23





	diary of a dabo boy

Quark laced up his favorite pair of high-heeled platform boots. They were made from a bright purple synthetic latex and came up just above his knees. He felt powerful in them, like he could accomplish anything he set his mind to. He quickly discovered that he had the ability to control people when he was wearing those boots- manipulate stupid wealthy Ferengi businessmen into giving him their latinum. Hell, Quark was even sure that if he died wearing them on his feet, those boots would be his ticket into the Divine Treasury. Not even the Celestial Auctioneers or the Blessed Exchequer himself would be able to resist his wiles. Quark wasn’t sure if the power came from the enchanting aesthetic of the boots themselves or if somehow lacing them up and standing a few inches taller gave him even more confidence and charm. 

Quark figured it was a bit of both. He knew the gaudiness of the boots always caught the attention of the greediest Ferengi. They would never admit it, but these powerful men liked being towered over by cute dabo boys. They liked feeling small, while still knowing deep down that they held the power, that they were the ones with all of the latinum lining their pockets. 

Quark had always been able to read people well, and the men who played dabo at the clubs he worked in were no different. From just one quick conversation, he could understand a person’s desires and motivations. That’s what made him such a good businessman... until the Ferengi business world blacklisted him. Exchequer forbid a man has consensual relations with the sub-nagus's sister. In Quark’s defense, _she_ came onto _him_! What was he going to do? Say no? 

Well, in retrospect, he supposed he should have. He _knew_ he should’ve said no. After all, rule of acquisition #112 does specifically warn to never have sex with the boss’s sister. But he was only 20 years old at the time and his self-control when it came to such pleasurable matters was practically non-existent. He would’ve let anyone stroke his lobes at that age. 

Nevertheless, even with being blacklisted from the business world, Quark enjoyed his work as a dabo boy- he made enough latinum to get by. He acquired far more profit than he could at any other blue-collar job on Ferenginar. Most importantly, he relished in the opportunity to swindle successful old Ferengi out of their hard-earned latinum. 

He was good at it, too. Distracting the players into losing their profit was a core skill for a dabo boy. Quark certainly knew how to distract gambling men and he did it through any means possible. In the two years that Quark had been working as a dabo boy, he made something of a name for himself among the club owners in the Goreth city limits. They all eventually heard chatter of the cute conniving boy who was able to save his employers from paying out too much of their latinum at the end of the night. Not only that, but Quark always managed to acquire very generous tips- tips that the employer naturally got a hefty percentage of. Some of the club owners wanted his skills so badly that they poached him, offering him more latinum if he came to work at their clubs. As a result, Quark moved his way up the dabo boy ladder from hustling in dingy dive bars to now working at one of the most distinguished clubs in Goreth. 

Sure, Quark wasn’t a real businessman anymore (Sub-Nagus Fenk made sure of that) but that didn’t stop him from conducting himself like one. Quark _was_ running a business- what he was selling were his interpersonal skills and his ability to manipulate rich Ferengi for all they were worth. 

And his business was thriving. 

One of the men who was playing at Quark’s table that night was almost pathetically easy to manipulate. He was so simple-minded that Quark didn’t understand how he had ever managed to be successful in business. Quark barely had to do any deeper thinking or psychoanalyzing of his personality because the man’s desires were so transparent. The moment the older Ferengi walked up to his table, Quark knew that his body would be this particular customer’s downfall. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of Quark’s bare shoulders, couldn’t stop his lecherous gaze from glancing downward at the bit of bare stomach that peeked out from the little lavender crop top that Quark had put on earlier that day. 

Quark was surprised that the man was on a winning streak. He figured it must’ve been dumb luck. Regardless, Quark needed to keep the wheel spinning until he lost all of the latinum he’d earned. 

Quark stepped a little closer to him, “How about another spin?” 

The man hesitated, “What if this is the spin I lose all my latinum on?” 

Quark looked into his eyes and smiled, “You won’t.” 

The man laughed, “Oh, really? How can you be so sure?” 

“I’ve seen a lot of players come in here. You’re good, better than most.” Quark used this line countless times a night. Nine times out of ten, it worked. There’s nothing successful men like more than being told that they’re better than others.

“I’m sure you say that to all the men who come in here.” 

Quark placed his hand on the man’s arm and leaned down to get a little closer to his face, “Only to the ones that I like.” Quark smirked, “And I don’t like a lot of people.” 

Quark was so close to the man’s face that he could almost feel the other’s breath on his skin. He noticed the man's eyes dart down to his mouth, so he ran his tongue across his front teeth. 

“Place your bet,” Quark thought a more direct approach would finally get the old Ferengi to keep playing. He moved his hand off of the man’s arm and began reaching toward the dabo wheel, ready to give it another spin. 

“Not so fast, my prize,” the man grabbed Quark’s wrist. Quark looked down at the hand gripping his naked flesh. This wasn’t a surprise- customers touched him all the time but he didn’t particularly mind. In fact, Quark usually appreciated it because whenever someone touched him, he knew they were getting attached to him, to his body. A touch gave him an advantage- it meant that he ultimately had the upper hand. 

“I suppose you don’t want me calling you that,” the man smugly chuckled. 

Pet names were common with the men that these types of clubs attracted. They called the dabo boys intimate names like “prize” because they thought it gave them power. When in all actuality, it gave the dabo boys the power to more easily manipulate these men by playing into their fantasies. 

Quark slowly moved his gaze from the long fingers wrapped around his wrist to the man’s eyes. He grinned, “For the right price, you can call me whatever you want.” 

Quark could see the lust in the man’s stare as he felt fingernails dig a little deeper into his skin. He reached his free hand up to the man’s lobe and quickly, very deliberately grazed it with his fingers. 

Quark heard a sharp intake of the man’s breath at the contact. He leered at Quark, “The right price?” 

Quark held out his hand, expecting a few slips of latinum, “I can be your prize tonight.” He held the man’s gaze and felt the cool press of metal against his palm. The weight in his hand indicated that the man had given him a strip of latinum. Quark tried not to let his surprise at the generous tip show on his face. 

“How’s that?” The man grinned as he brought his hand up to his own lobe and lightly stroked it. 

“That’ll do.” Quark smirked at him playfully, “For now.” 

Quark noticed the man’s gaze look him up and down- trailing the entirety of his body, then stopping for a few seconds to admire Quark’s legs in those boots. The man dragged his tongue across his teeth, “You know there’s a lot more where that came from if you come home with me.” 

Quark smiled out of habit; he didn’t know why these men always propositioned him when they could easily walk down the street and go to a brothel. He figured it had to do with the thrill of the chase. Regardless, it was another thing that he could use to his advantage. “Why don’t we finish the game first? You’re on a winning streak.” 

The man stared into his eyes, “I think you’d be more fun to play with.” 

“You’re probably right,” Quark acquiesced. “But think of all the latinum you’d be missing out on.” 

“I’ve got enough latinum,” the man shrugged. 

Quark raised his brow, exaggerating his suspicion, “Enough? Have you forgotten rule of acquisition #97?” Quark deliberately lowered his voice and made his tone accusatory. He knew that nothing bothered wealthy Ferengi more than insinuating that they’re not greedy. 

The man dropped his gaze from Quark eyes and became flustered, “Well, that’s not what I meant. I just-” 

“Then place your bet.” Quark softly added, “I want to see you win again.” 

The man hesitated. 

“The riskier the road, the greater the profit,” Quark reminded; he knew how much these types loved hearing lowly dabo boys recite the rules of acquisition. It really made their lobes tingle. 

The man grinned as he told Quark his bets. Quark smirked back as he spun the wheel, feeling powerful as he held this Ferengi in the palm of his hands like a tiny tube grub- fully able to crush and devour him at a moment’s notice. The dabo wheel stopped spinning and, much to Quark’s satisfaction, missed all of the man’s bets. 

The man hissed, “I knew I should have stopped!” 

“Oh, come on, one more round? Just enough to win your loss back?” 

“No.” The man leered at him, “I’ve got a better idea.” 

Quark knew where this was going- he knew that no matter what he said, the man wouldn’t spin the wheel again. He knew the only thing this Ferengi wanted right now was him, well his body. So, he dropped his flirtatious act, “Uh huh, and what would that be?” 

The man was too dense to realize that Quark’s tone had become completely disinterested. “I’ll bring you to my place and you can show me a good time.” 

“I still have seven hours left on my shift,” Quark shrugged. 

“After?” 

Quark chuckled, “I don’t think so.” 

He glanced over at one of the security guards. They always kept a close watch over the dabo tables but they knew to keep an even closer eye on Quark since his particular tactics had a tendency to upset the losing gamblers. 

“What do you mean? I gave you a strip of latinum, you nasty little slut!” 

Knowing that the man in front him was likely going to make an even bigger scene, Quark made eye contact with a security guard and nonchalantly beckoned him over with a quick flick of his wrist. 

“And I thank you for that generous tip,” Quark replied as he watched the security guard grab ahold of the man and drag him out of the club. 

Quark smiled to himself, feeling a swell of pride rise up inside him. Being a dabo boy certainly wasn’t his first career choice, but he figured it was the next best thing. In all honesty, for Quark, there was nothing more fun than using his beauty and charm to outsmart powerful Ferengi businessmen while also making a little latinum along the way, of course. 

**Author's Note:**

> some notes:  
> \- synthehol_king made a tweet a while ago talking about how quark could have been a dabo boy at some point in his life and ever since then i have accepted it as canon. so all props go to him for thinking of such a great concept  
> \- the inspiration for this fic actually hit me bc i once asked a quark rp account on twitter if he minded being called "mr quark" and he replied "for the right price you can call me whatever you want".... when i read that i began to think many thoughts and then came up with the idea for this fic just so that i could use that line  
> \- and if you're curious, rule of acquisition #97 is "enough is never enough"


End file.
